Achilles’ sin, Hector’s virtue
It’s all, at play, o’er scorching yard
Little feathered souls, in their, rendezvous
With sweat, and blood, yet a, spirit unscarred!
That chase, to sun, from dawn, to dusk
O’er broken nerves, and, scattered quills
Like a lost, deer spent, in the, search of musk
With a pain, in love, which passion fills!
Not placid shade, but smoldering clay
The faith, of throbbing, hearts redeems
There is, more to, theses urchins’ play
When tears, of sun, nurture their dreams!
Both Hector, and Achilles, die
To resurrect, a truth, August
O’er tomb, of life’s, enduring lie
Sparrows Bathe, In Sun, And Dust!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra